


Clint doesn't have a theory

by LeMera (Agha)



Series: Phil's ring [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Sexual Content, but it's not, but they think it is cheating, not-cheating, sexy stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-23 00:32:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2527346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agha/pseuds/LeMera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint's kept his distance because of Phil's ring, until that night in Alaska.</p>
<p>Or Clint doesn't have a theory about the ring on Phil's hand (but it would totally be right if he did have one)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clint doesn't have a theory

**Author's Note:**

> Seeing the response for "Clint's theory" (thanks for that btw!) I thought I'd try to maybe write a sequel? But then I realized that I'd really dug myself into a hole with that one, so I wrote this instead. This is kind of an AU to "Clint's theory" where everything is the opposite. Unbeta'd.
> 
> You don't have to read "Clint's theory" one to get this one, but I guess it would sort of give it background and make it make more sense in a way.
> 
> Hopefully, this will get you all to forgive me for Clint's theory.

Coulson started shivering the moment Clint pulled the blanket off, but he had no other choice if he wanted to make sure that the bandages were proper. He was overtaken by the urge to pull the other man close and never let him go. But he couldn’t. Because of that stupid wedding ring Phil wore he couldn’t.

_Come back to me when you’re not in love with someone else_ , Clint remembered Natasha saying all that time ago.

At first, after she’d said it, he’d been confused. Then he’d been in denial. Then he’d simply run out of excuses and had to man up and admit that, yes, he had feelings for Coulson.

He’d then walked into Coulson’s office and seen the gleaming ring on his finger and remembered exactly why he _couldn’t_ have feeling for Coulson. Coulson was married, and considering how long he’d had the ring and the laws of the state, he’d assume Coulson was married to a woman. So he was most likely straight as well as taken. No way he’d be interested in Clint. And even if he was, Clint was not a home wrecker (at least so he told himself, he had no idea what he’d do if Coulson ever actually showed interest in him for real).

So, in his mind he took that golden ring and wrapped it around his feelings for his handler until they suffocated. Then he’d decided to go back and give asking Natasha out another try. After all, she’d hinted he could try again if he didn’t have feelings for someone else. He’d made plans. Nice, subtle, first-date-with-my-best-friend plans. Had even gotten chocolate so filled with alcohol you could probably get drunk on just one of them to give her on Valentine’s day.

Then there’d been a mission with him, Natasha and Coulson. Clint had taken a perfect, impossible shot, and Coulson’s lips had twitched in an approving half-smile, and he’d realized he was in no way not in love with him anymore.

The realization hurt more than anything. He’d canceled his date plans and just gone and crawled into bed with Natasha afterwards. She’d understood, wrapping her arms around him and soothing him into sleep, and that had been it for that romance. He loved her, and she loved him, and he trusted her more than anything in the world. But they weren’t ever going to fall in love, weren’t ever going to have sex, so they became the world’s best friends and left it at that, and he was left pining after his married, probably straight, handler.

Then the flirting between Coulson and Clint started, and the pining from the distance had gotten even harder. It had taken some time for Clint to coax Coulson into responding to his clatter over the coms, but he’d gotten there eventually. Talking turned into baseless flirting, and the flirting left the coms and the office and at Clint’s apartment whenever they hanged out together.

Coulson would sometimes allow his eyes to wander over Clint’s body, and after the first time Clint had noticed he’d started to allow himself to do the same. So maybe Coulson wasn’t totally straight, but heated looks and baseless flirting didn’t mean anything. Coulson never made a move, so neither did Clint. If he sometimes had twisted dreams about Coulson announcing his divorce and then bending him over his office and fucking him, then that was between him and Jiminy Cricket.

 

Then Alaska happened. _Fucking_ Alaska.

The op had gone… _fine,_ all things considered. Natasha was knocked unconscious and sent away with the last helicopter, leaving only Clint and Coulson behind to be picked up at a later date from the safe house, and Clint wasn’t going to string a bow in a few weeks or so. It was Coulson who he’d worried about the most though. Coulson who had gotten slashed straight over his chest, who’d been bleeding out on the freezing ground when Clint had been pulled inside by the Hydra agent. Coulson had survived only because Clint had found him after they were done with the bad guys, allowing the helicopter to leave without him, and dragged him to the safe house.

Obviously Coulson was much better now, having slept and showered and been patched up, but Clint couldn’t help but fret over his bandages still.

When he touched Coulson’s chest he found that the skin was still cold, despite the hot shower, and worry struck him. His hands roamed over his chest, up to his shoulders, down his arms, trying to spread his own heat as he went.

“Barton?” Coulson said, unsure.

Clint wanted to pull his hands back, _should_ pull his hands back, but Coulson had almost died and his skin was right there to be touched, and…

“Barton,” Coulson repeated, his voice a bit softer. He lifted his hand and wrapped them around Clint’s wrists, forcing his hands to stop. “Clint,” he tried again when he got no response.

Clint took in a shuddering breath. He knew he’d screwed up now, knew everything he felt was written over his face, but he couldn’t bring himself to care because _Coulson had almost died_.

“Yes Phil?” he said at last, refusing to meet the other man’s eyes. It was out there now; there was nothing he could do about it other than wait for the rejection.

“I…”

Then they were kissing.

He didn’t know who started it, but suddenly their lips were pressed together and Clint’s hands were roaming Coul- _Phil_ ’s body freely. Phil’s hands were digging into his back, pulling him closer until the joint weight of their bodies made them topple over in the bed with Clint on top. Phil let out a small yelp of surprise and Clint took the opportunity to push his tongue inside.

Phil moaned into his mouth and his hand snaked down Clint’s body to grab his ass. Clint let out a soft laugh (Phil was grabbing his ass what the fuck this is so weird and amazing and wonderful and _what_ ) and pushed his hips down to grind their growing erections together.

Eventually they ran out of air and had to pull back reluctantly. Clint rested his forehead against Phil as they panted onto each other’s lips. Phil closed his eyes, his hand tightening around Clint.

“We can’t do this,” Clint said weakly. He _wanted_ so bad, but they couldn’t. Phil would never be able to forgive him, never be able to forgive himself.

“I know,” Phil responded, and despite Clint knowing that would be the response it hurt like hell. It seemed a part of him was still hoping Phil would want him over his husband/wife. “Out of pure curiosity,” Phil went on hesitantly, “what exactly is ‘this’?”

“Well, as you’re asking, I’d really like to blow you right now.” He might as well say it, seeing as his arousal was pressing pretty obviously against Phil’s thigh at the moment.

“And that’s all?”

“No, that’s not even the beginning of it,” Clint admitted. “But that’s all there can be, isn’t it?”

Phil finally opened his eyes and looked at him. He looked a bit sad, disappointed, and he gave a deep sigh. “Yeah,” he said and pulled his hand through Clint’s hair almost fondly, “I guess that’s true.”

Clint wasn’t sure whether it was confirmation or permission.

Clint took it as permission.

He pressed his lips against Phil’s neck, tasting his cold skin while doing his best not to leave marks of any kind. Phil didn’t push away so Clint took that as further permission to carry on, if only this once.

He moved his lips down over Phil’s chest, careful not to disrupt the bandages, and licked down his happy trail until he reached his pants. He hooked his fingers in them and waited for a second for any sound of protest. When it didn’t come he pulled the pants and underwear down carefully, freeing Phil’s cock and quickly wrapping his lips around it.

Phil’s breath hitched above him and his hand hesitantly went to Clint’s hair, where it held on loosely. Clint took him in as deep as he could and hollowed his cheek, granting him another hitch of breath and a moan. He went on like that, sucking and swirling is tongue experimentally, doing his best to hear every sound of pleasure his handler let out, cataloguing what got him to moan and what got him to wither and shout.

Every time Clint thought Phil was close to coming he slowed down, once even pulled off completely, and Phil’s hand would tighten in his hair but he wouldn’t protest. If this was the one time Clint got this, he wanted it to last as long as possible.

The time he completely pulled off Phil let out a low growl from the back of his throat. It was the first sound of protest so far. “Clint,” he said, his voice hoarse and almost pleading. Clint got that the time for exploration was over wrapped his lips around him again and took him in until his cock hit the back of Clint’s throat and swallowed around him, and continued to swallow when he came down his throat with a shout.

Phil didn’t move or make a sound when he kissed up to Phil’s chest and licked his way back into his mouth. That got Phil moving and he moved his hands over Clint’s chest, underneath the shirt Clint had forgotten to take off. His fingers explored the muscles on his body and Clint took a moment to feel smug about how fit he knew he was. Phil kept pushing the shirt up and Clint took the hint and leaned back to let the shirt off. Phil’s eyes set on his chest, hungry and sated at the same time, and when Clint was reminded of his still standing erection. He leaned back down and hissed when his erection rubbed up against Phil’s thigh. Phil’s eyes widened and his hands made their way down to his pants to rub him through his pants.

“My turn,” he whispered heatedly, and flipped them over skillfully, somehow keeping them from falling off the narrow bed.

He kissed his way down Clint’s chest, but when he _finally_ got his cock free into the air he seemed to hesitate.

“You don’t have to,” Clint forced himself to say when he noticed the slight hesitation. It hurt to say it, because Phil’s mouth was _right there_ next to his painfully hard dick, but he didn’t want Phil to do anything he didn’t want to do.

Phil responded through taking him into his mouth.

“Fuck,” Clint shouted and had to take hold of the headboard so not to grab onto Phil’s hair and push himself into the heat of his mouth.

Phil was unable to take him in very deep before pulling back for air, and it was obvious that he hadn’t done this in a while ( _probably because he’s married to a woman_ , Clint’s brain supplied unhelpfully), but he was persistent and it wasn’t long before Clint had to pull Phil off and up for another kiss, just before coming between their bodies with a moan.

After he came down from his high he realized that Phil’s bandages had gone red, and that the man himself had gone pale.

“Fuck,” he said, horrified, and got on his feet. His pants, which had only been pulled halfway down his thigh, tangled and he fell over. Phil let out a huff of laughter behind him while he cursed his way to the bathroom where he’d left the bandages and the first-aid kit. “Not funny,” he grumbled when he returned with the items. “You could’ve bled out.”

Phil looked relaxed, spread out on the bed like a king, with a fond smile on his lips. The sight made Clint’s heart skip a beat and he had to cough in order to cover whatever stupid words were about to leave his mouth.

“I’m fine,” Phil said reassuringly, although he allowed himself to be manhandled while Clint changed his bandages.

“We shouldn’t have done this while you were hurt,” he mumbled while his fingers were occupied. “Should’ve waited until…” He went silent just as Phil went rigid beneath his fingers. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say. Home? Base?

At Phil’s home there was Phil’s wife. At base there were coworkers, friends, people who knew about Phil’s marriage and would look at them disapprovingly. Fury, Maria and Jasper might even know Phil’s wife personally, might go as far as tell her if they knew he was cheating.

_Cheating_.

Clint suddenly felt sick and he pulled back from his handler.

Phil grabbed his wrist before he could flee the room. “Clint,” he said, his voice soft.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” Clint said weakly. Phil had the audacity to look hurt for a moment. Then he nodded and looked away, his Agent Coulson mask slipping on.

“You’re right.” He let go of Clint’s wrist. “Do you want the bed?” At that moment he wasn’t Phil anymore, he was Agent Coulson, and Clint was Barton the asset. The only thing that was off was the Coulson wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Nah sir,” he gave his regular grin, ignoring the churning feeling in his stomach. “You’re hurt, you take the bed, I’ll take the couch.”

With that he left the room and readied himself for a night of guilt and no sleep.

 

*

 

Extraction went without a hitch and they were back to base in no time. Barton and Agent Coulson were their usual selves to the outside world. If they didn’t quite banter than they used to, and if neither of them met the other’s eyes, then no one around them noticed.

Phil and Clint on the other hand didn’t talk for four days, and it was obvious to both that that was going to continue.

Clint went to Natasha in medical and sat with her for a while, but as soon as she was cleared he avoided her like the plague. She would know what had happened in the matter of seconds if he faced her on his own, and he couldn’t deal with that. She allowed him avoid her, so obviously she knew that _something_ had happened but respected him enough not to push to find out _what_.

In fact, he pretty much avoided everyone for the next four days, until Coulson was cleared from medical and Clint had no other excuse not to hand in his report.

Clint mentally prepared himself for awkwardness and guilt. He’d felt plenty of guilt over the last couple of days, but seeing Coulson against would probably only bring it back stronger.

He could do this. He could go in there as specialist Barton, hand it in, say his usual pointless chatter, and leave. Just like nothing had happened.

What he wasn’t prepared for upon entering Coulson’s office was the overwhelming feeling of _want_. He’d wanted Coulson for so long, and now that he’d known what it was to have him, if only for a little while, he didn’t ever want to let him go.

“Barton?” Coulson said from behind his desk, his hands taking a momentary break from where they were typing on the computer, and Clint swallowed hard.

“I…”

“The report?” Coulson suggested, and Clint nodded dumbly.

“Yeah, that.” He didn’t move, the papers he’d taken such care filling out slowly crumbling in his hand.

Coulson closed his computer with a sigh.

“Clint,” he said, and that got Clint to regain control of himself and go rigid. “Close the door.”

Clint followed the order and then walked further into the office, stopping right in front of the desk.

“Clint,” Coulson repeated.

“Yes sir?”

Coulson’s shoulders sagged slightly and suddenly he was Phil. He put his elbows on the table and leaned his face into them.

“She’s going to kill me, isn’t she?” he mumbled into his hands. Clint cringed at the reminder of Phil’s wife, and _there_ was the guilt he’d anticipated.

“I don’t know,” he said in lack of anything else. Although that was the truth; Clint didn’t know Phil’s wife enough to anticipate her reaction. Maybe she’d just leave or something. “Sir, if I may?”

“No need for _sir_ right at this moment Clint.”

 “Phil,” Clint went again. “Maybe she doesn’t have to know.”

That got Phil to look up, surprise obvious in his face. “What?”

“There’s no reason she has to know,” he repeated, and wow didn’t that sound awful? “It was a one-time thing, no need to ruin a relationship over it,” he added quickly, hoping it would sound less awful. Only that just made him feel more awful. And once again Phil looked hurt, as if _he_ was the one who was going to be left alone again after all of this.

“And you don’t think she’ll find out on her own?”

“I don’t see why she would.”

“She’s a super spy Barton, and she’s known us both for years, I think she’d…”

“Wait,” Clint interrupted, holding his hand up while trying to get his mind to comprehend what had just been said. “What are you talking about?”

“Natasha, Black Widow, one of our best spies and experts in torture. What else?”

“What about your wife?”

Phil frowned. “What wife?”

“ _Your_ wife!” Clint exclaimed, waving at Phil’s hand. “The woman you’re married to, the woman wearing the other ring!”

Phil looked down on his hand and he almost looked surprised over seeing the wedding ring, as if he’d never seen it before. “I don’t have a wife.”

“Husband?”

“None of those either.” He looked up at Clint again and took in the question mark that was his face and went to explaining. “I was married once, before SHIELD, but it ended before I got here and I haven’t spoken to her since. I kept wearing the ring out of habit, and because at the time I was still young and a field agent and junior agents tended to, ah…” He blushed slightly.

“Hit on you?”

“Yeah. It just seemed easier to keep the ring on, and then I never took it off.”

Clint hadn’t known he was so wound up until he felt his body relax, muscle by muscle, as the guilt left him. “Oh.” He collapsed on the couch, the guilt-ridden sleepless nights having caught up with him.

“You thought I was married?” Phil said disbelievingly.

“Well, yeah. You wore a wedding ring, what else was I supposed to think?”

“If I was married, don’t you think I’d actually have some pictures or something of my wife?” He spread his arms out as if to point out his photo-free office. “Don’t you think I’d talk about her or call her every once in a while or work less or have someone come by medical? Or that I’d talk to you and Natasha about her, as you are both my friends?”

“I just figured you were a private person,” Clint said, a bit defensively.

“You’re a spy, didn’t you ever think to investigate?”

“No?” Clint felt a bit stupid at that moment, because all of that did make sense, and he felt himself melt into the couch. “Wait,” he suddenly remembered, “you thought I was with Natasha?”

Now it was Phil’s turn to get defensive. “You’re together a lot and you sleep in the same bed on ops sometimes and you live in the same apartment.”

“We’re just friends.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“And I didn’t know you weren’t married.”

They went silent, measuring each other up carefully.

Phil wasn’t married.

Phil wasn’t married.

_Phil wasn’t married_.

Clint thought he might burst out singing did he not know his singing voice would scare Phil off.

“You really thought I’d cheat on my wife?” Phil asked after a long silence, and he actually sounded offended.

“You really thought I’d cheat on Natasha?” he bit back.

“Touché.”

“So…” Clint stretched his legs out. “If you’re single, and I’m single, and we’re both here alone in your office…” He trailed off and grinned.

Phil rolled his eyes and opened his computer again, but there was a slight smile playing on his lips. “Go to sleep Barton, you look exhausted,” he commanded, going back to _Coulson_.

“Come on, _sir_ , I know you want to.”

“I’m not having sex with you in my office.”

“But you are having sex with me in the near future, aren’t you? And then you’re going to take me on a date and tell me that you _luuuve_ me.”

There was a slight twitch in the corner of Coulson’s mouth. “And how do you know that, pray tell?” he said, sounding amused.

“Because you slept with me thinking I was dating _Natasha_. Only a fool in love would risk his safety and sanity like that.”

Coulson didn’t respond, but the twitch didn’t stop.

“It’s fine sir.” Clint settled back in the couch and closed his eyes. “I love you too.”


End file.
